


Don't go

by gottabemore



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabemore/pseuds/gottabemore
Summary: A short story in which Todd deals with the aftermath of Neil's death.





	Don't go

_'I was scared, you know? This may be weird, but I thought I might never see you again,' Todd said after Neil had closed their door behind them._

_Neil laughed it off. 'So was I.'_

_'What did he say?'_

_'Who?'_

_'W-well, your father, of course.'_

_'The expected.''So you can't act anymore?'_

_'I guess not.' Neil walked over to the window, seemed to be looking out of it, just to hide his face from him, Todd could tell._

_'Well, don't you care?'_

_'Of course I care! Jesus, Todd, have you not been listening to anything I've been saying?' Deep breath. 'I care about little else.'_

_The trees were swaying outside, seemingly unable to give Neil the distraction he wanted._

_'N-neil, are you okay?' Todd asked, willing him to turn around._

_'Sure.' Neils voice broke. It said no. No, he wasn't okay._

_Todd stood up, walked to the window and looked at Neil._

 

And there it was again. No words came.

This was what kept him from falling asleep every night. This scenario came up, in which Neil came back, alive, and there would never be any words to comfort him, to say it was okay, or at least to show he cared. There would be nothing. And then the scene would just start again.

It didn't work on paper, either. It was too dark to see the trash can - Todd looked at it anyway - but he knew it was overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper. The poetry had stopped altogether. No words could possibly be good enough, so why try?

Yet he did nothing but try. He never stopped looking for those words, never. That was the thing about words; not even nonexistence could keep them from lurking in the back of his mind. They had stolen his sleep, made his eyes watery and dry at the same time and never came out of his mouth - never would - but stayed painfully stuck in his throat.

He rolled over. He thought about Neils bed a few metres away - no no no don't cry again - and knew there would be no sleep tonight. Water rolled across the bridge of his nose. He rolled over again and looked across the room, at the empty bed. He sighed shakily, threw his duvet off of him and stood up. He walked to the right side of the window, where Neil stood in the scenario. He was the one crying now. Neil would have known just what to say. Neil didn't need to brood over the right words, he knew how to say them.

But the air was cold and empty. And Neil was dead. He kept reminding himself of that, though he never forgot, and always in Charlie's voice. _Neil's dead._ The way Charlie's voice had broken when he said it was ingrained in Todd's memory. And every time he heard it said again in his head, he could feel the snow on his skin - he shivered - and the nausea that never quite left him.

He had never imagined how much physical and emotional pain could blur into one thing. Never really considered it. And now his head hurt, his stomach hurt, his throat was in constant agony, and every thought made it all worse. Thinking about Neil was painful, trying to distract himself from it all even more so. He didn't know why, but the worst thing, beside the fading familiar smell on the right side of the room, was seeing Charlie. Charlie was a wreck.

The trees outside still weren't distracting enough. Todd looked to his left, where he wanted - god, how he wished for it - Neil to be standing. Just his presence would be enough. More than enough. Everything. In a way, Todds life had become simpler than ever. He wasn't worried anymore about what everyone thought of him, he didn't care about his classwork, how unkempt his appearance was getting, about anything. There was only one thing that bothered him, one thing he knew he could keep wishing for for ever and never get. It was a huge thing, but it was just one. Neil. And that could explain everything he did, thought, and said. It defined him. He was defined by an absence. The words would never appear, never form. The closest he got tonight was 'don't go'.  
He soundlessly said it.

It started snowing again.


End file.
